Collected Fiction (1940-1963)

by William P. McGivern

He led Reggie into the stable and called several of the other grooms.

  “Look here what I found, boys,” he said. “He ain’t one of ours, is he?” The grooms looked him over critically.

  “Maybe he’s one of the new bunch the colonel just bought,” one of the group volunteered.

  “Maybe,” the groom said. “Looks like a pretty good animal, don’t he?” Reggie tossed his head modestly. He looked around and saw that his coat was a shining brown, and that his legs were slim and well-muscled. Somehow the knowledge that he had changed into a sleek-looking thoroughbred made him feel a little better.

  THE grooms were still standing about Reggie when the riding party arrived. Eileen, Reggie noted approvingly, looked lovely and slim in casual riding clothes, and Mannering like a personification of the Great Outdoor Man. His cheeks were ruddy and he pounded himself on the chest with hearty cheer as he breathed deeply of the keen morning air.

  “Wonderful, isn’t it?” he said happily. He turned and slapped Eileen on the shoulder. “When we’re married, we’ll ride every morning. And we won’t wait this late to get started. We’ll hit the trail when it’s still dark. That’s the real sport.”

  “Sounds like a lot of fun,” Eileen said dryly. “What’ll we do in the afternoon? Lift weights?”

  Mannering laughed loudly and Slapped her on the back.

  “Always there with a joke,” he said. “That’s what I like about you, Eileen. After we’re married I think I’ll call you my little clown.”

  Eileen shuddered visibly.

  “Don’t strain yourself being tender,” she muttered.

  The colonel arrived then and the groom called him to Reggie’s side.

  “Found this boy out in the yard,” he explained. “Don’t know whether he’s one of ours or not.”

  The colonel looked at Reggie with critical eyes.

  “No,” he said, “he doesn’t belong here. Probably from one of the neighboring estates. Mighty fine piece of horseflesh, isn’t he?”

  Eileen and Mannering sauntered over to Reggie’s side.

  “He looks sweet,” Eileen said. She patted his neck affectionately.

  Reggie whinnied happily.

  Mannering frowned and shook his head.

  “He’s got a mean look in his eye,” he said. “That’s a horse I wouldn’t trust.”

  Reggie’s ears pricked up angrily. What the hell did Mannering mean? A horse he wouldn’t trust? He glared indignantly at the young sportsman. Did he think he looked like Abraham Lincoln as a young man?

  Eileen said, “I think you’re wrong, Guy.”

  “My clear,” Mannering said, smiling indulgently, “you’ll learn when we’re married that I am never wrong about horses. And by the way, where is your friend Thorndyke this morning?”

  “I don’t know,” Eileen said. “He left his room earlier this morning.”

  Mannering smiled. “Remember, he was going to give us a riding lesson this morning. He probably lost his nerve and is hiding somewhere until we leave. I knew the minute I set eyes on him he was no horseman.”

  “There are things in life other than riding horses,” Eileen said shortly.

  “Well, naturally,” Mannering said, “but nothing quite so important.” He glanced at Reggie critically. “Now this animal is obviously a third-rate horse. Notice the closely set eyes? That means temper.”

  HE TURNED his back to Reggie as he spoke, and the temptation was too much for Reggie. He lowered his head and butted Mannering squarely in the back. The young sportsman let out a startled squawk as he sprawled to the ground.

  “You see,” he cried, as he struggled to his feet. “Temper!”

  Eileen was giggling helplessly, and as Mannering stared at her with outraged eyes, she broke into another spasm of laughter.

  “What,” said Mannering stiffly, “is so funny about a man being knocked down by a bad-tempered horse?” Eileen stopped laughing with an obvious effort, but her cheeks were still crimson and there were impish lights in her eyes.

  “You just looked so—so surprised, that’s all,” she said.

  “I see,” Mannering said coldly. It was obvious he didn’t relish being the object of anyone’s ridicule. He brushed his clothes in a sulky silence and then turned to Reggie. “I think this horse needs a bit of discipline,” he said. He snapped his finger at a groom. “Boy, saddle this horse for me.”

  “Yes, sir,” the groom said.

  In a few minutes Reggie was led out of the stable, equipped with bridle and saddle. Mannering mounted him and gave the bridle a brisk sawing jerk across his mouth.

  It hurt very definitely. Reggie whinnied heatedly and reared on his hind legs. He heard Mannering laugh nastily and then the crop landed squarely between his eyes with stinging force. He dropped back to all fours and shook his head angrily. This was hardly a sporting proposition, and he decided the only sensible course to follow was one of meek obedience.

  Mannering’s heels stabbed sharply into his flanks and he started forward at a trot. Mannering turned and waved at the colonel and Eileen.

  “Don’t try and keep up with me,” he called. “I’m going to be riding pretty hard.”

  “Don’t work that horse too much,” Eileen said.

  Mannering smiled. “Leave that to me, my dear.”

  He brought the crop down smartly on Reggie’s left flank and lifted himself in the stirrups.

  “Get movin’,” he snapped tersely into Reggie’s ear. “Get up!”

  He accompanied the order with another flick of the crop, and Reggie needed no more encouragement. He started down the bridle path at a dead run and a few minutes later they were a couple of miles from the stables. But Mannering showed no indication of slackening the murderous pace.

  His crop fell repeatedly on Reggie’s side, and his voice was a constant harsh whip about his ears.

  “How do you like this?” he snapped.

  “Run, you mean-tempered brute! You won’t feel so frisky when you get back to the stable, I’ll promise you.”

  REGGIE ran until his sides were heaving and his mouth was flecked with foam, but it was many miles before Mannering finally reined him to a halt.

  “That’ll take some of the ginger out of you,” Mannering said with satisfaction. “I’ll give you a few minutes to get your breath back before we return. And if you think you worked coming out, wait’ll you start back. I’m going to run your legs right into your belly.”

  He climbed off and tethered Reggie to a tree. They were in a quiet cluster of trees through which ran a small brook. Mannering walked down to the creek, drank, and then stretched out and closed his eyes.

  Reggie watched him disconsolately. The big baboon! He’d like to show him a thing or two. But there wasn’t anyway he could. As long as he remained a horse he was completely helpless. He thought of the ride back to the stables with a stab of horror. A horse was supposed to be man’s friend, he thought bitterly, but if there were many sportsmen of Mannering’s ilk about, diplomatic relations would have been broken off long ago.

  While he was standing in the shade getting his breath back, he suddenly felt the same dizzy sensation that he’d experienced when he had changed into a horse. There was a blinding stab of nausea and he thought he was going to faint. For a moment he leaned against the tree, breathing slowly and waiting for the attack to pass.

  Finally his head seemed clearer and he opened his eyes. There was a cumbersome, uncomfortable object on his back and when he looked around he saw it was the saddle.

  And it was uncomfortable because he was no longer a horse!

  He stared at his familiar body with relieved eyes. The transformation had apparently taken only a second and once again he was back in his former shape.

  He took the bit and bridle from his mouth and unbuckled the saddle from his body and let it fall to the ground. He glanced down at the creek and saw that Mannering was apparently asleep. For a moment or so he debated his course of action. Then he smiled cheerfully and tip-toed out
of the grove of trees and walked rapidly until he reached a road that led back to the Ravenal home. After about a half hour’s wait he managed to flag a ride with a milk truck going in that direction. He rode beside the driver with a pleased smile on his face.

  He was thinking of the explanations Mannering, the peerless horseman, would have to make, when he returned to the stable without his horse . . .

  WHEN Reggie reached the colonel’s estate, he went directly to his room and shaved, showered and changed. Then he went to look for Eileen. He found her in the stable with the colonel. They had just returned from their ride.

  “Reggie!” she exclaimed. “What happened to you? We looked all over for you this morning. We had a wonderful ride. It’s a pity you weren’t with us.”

  “I was, in spirit,” Reggie smiled. He looked questioningly from Eileen to the colonel. “And where is our young Centaur friend?” he asked.

  “Mannering’s still out,” the colonel said gruffly. “Should be back soon though.”

  “Guy’s riding a strange horse,” Eileen said.

  “Well maybe he’s had a little trouble,” Reggie suggested blandly.

  The colonel snorted.

  “Mannering can ride anything on four legs,” he said testily.

  “Still,” Reggie said, “with a strange horse he might not do so well.”

  “Guy is all right,” Eileen said. “He said he was going to give that poor horse a work-out and he obviously meant what he said.”

  “Shall we go in to breakfast?” the colonel said. “Mannering will be along shortly.”

  “But I’m worried,” Reggie said. “I keep thinking that he might have fallen off, or something.”

  The colonel paused and looked at him disgustedly.

  “Young man,” he said, “riders of Mannering’s caliber do not ‘fall off’ horses.”

  “Maybe he was thrown,” Reggie said.

  “And neither are they thrown!” the colonel said explosively.

  “Well, I was just wondering,” Reggie murmured.

  The colonel stamped out of the stables and Eileen looked suspiciously at Reggie.

  “You’re looking mighty pleased about something,” she said. “What is it?”

  Reggie smiled innocently.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “Shall we go in to breakfast? He may not be along for some time.”

  “All right,” Eileen said.

  “You’re not going to like being a horse widow,” Reggie said as they started for the house. “Golf widows, fishing widows and so forth are all right. But coming second to a horse isn’t very flattering.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Eileen said coldly.

  “Yes you do,” Reggie said. “And, by the way, have you thought any more about our marriage?”

  “Frankly, I haven’t,” Eileen said. “After my first annoyance I forgot the entire matter.”

  “Still determined to marry Tarzan on horseback?” Reggie inquired.

  “Certainly,” Eileen said. “I admire him more than ever since you’ve tried to run him down. He was out this morning breaking a dangerous horse and working with all his strength. And what were you doing?”

  Reggie sighed as he thought of his morning’s ride.

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said. “Anyway, your hero should be back by now. My guess is the horse proved too much for him.” Eileen smiled.

  “If you knew how ridiculous you sound you wouldn’t make such silly comments,” she said.

  THEY entered the house and found a variety of hot and cold breakfast dishes spread on a buffet m the dining room. The colonel was eating when they arrived.

  “No sign of Mannering yet?” he asked around a mouthful of scrambled egg.

  Eileen shook her head. Reggie helped himself to a plateful of food, and as he was taking the first bite, the door opened and Guy Mannering limped into the room. He looked wilted and peevish. Under one arm he carried a loose bridle.

  “Why, Guy,” Eileen said, “you look worn out! Did you have a nice ride?”

  “No,” Mannering said peevishly. He sat down wearily and stared at his dust-caked boots. “I just walked in from the Grove,” he said bleakly.

  “What happened?” Eileen cried. “Probably carried the horse back,”

  Reggie observed. “True sport and all that. Turnabout. Ride the horse out; carry him back. Be all the rage next year.”

  “Will you shut up, you blithering ass!” Mannering cried.

  “Guy!” Eileen said, shocked. “That’s hardly a way to speak to my guest.”

  Mannering put his head in his hands.

  “Nothing like this has ever happened to me before,” he said hollowly.

  “You mean you were thrown?” the colonel said incredulously.

  Mannering shook his head miserably.

  “I lost the horse,” he said. “When I got to the Grove I tethered the horse and stretched out myself for a nap. When I awoke the horse was gone, but the saddle and bridle were still there. I don’t know what to make of it.”

  “Seems rather careless of you,” Reggie said, shaking his head thoughtfully. “A man who loses a horse, well,” he shrugged, “there’s not much you can say in his defense.”

  “Oh Reggie, do be quiet,” Eileen said.

  The colonel was shaking his head worriedly.

  “Don’t know what to make of it,” he rumbled. “This doesn’t sound like you, Mannering.”

  “Maybe,” Reggie said, “the horse didn’t like the prospects of a hard ride back to the stable and just took French leave. The thought of having its legs ridden into its belly might not have appealed to it.”

  Mannering raised his head slowly and stared at Reggie with thoughtful eyes.

  “I did say that to the horse,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Those were the very words I used. But,” he added suspiciously, “how did you know that?”

  The colonel and Eileen both looked from Mannering to Reggie and their expressions were puzzled.

  “Yes,” Eileen said, “how could you possibly know what Guy said to his horse?”

  Reggie smiled nervously.

  “A little colt told me,” he said.

  He looked at his watch and stood up suddenly.

  “Sorry I have to run like this,” he said, “but I just remembered a letter I have to write. See you later.”

  With a polite bow he hurried out of the room.

  REGGIE spent the rest of the day recuperating from his hard morning’s ride. His muscles ached in a dozen places where he hadn’t even suspected muscles existed; but by dinner time he felt a little better. A fresh shave and shower gave him a deceptively brisk appearance as he limped into the drawing room about seven in the evening.

  Eileen met him in the doorway.

  “The dead have risen,” she said, as she saw him. “I guess you’re the last isolationist left in the country, Reggie. We were afraid you were going to stay in your room ’til Monday morning.” Reggie managed a smile despite his aching back.

  “Nice of you to miss me,” he said. “Do you need more proof that you really love me?”

  “Oh, stop talking nonsense,” Eileen said. “I thought we’d settled that once and for all.”

  Reggie bowed solemnly. “From henceforth on, my lips are sealed.”

  “Well, that’s better,” Eileen said. “The very idea of my loving you is preposterous.”

  Reggie held up a hand firmly. “We shall say no more about it.”

  Eileen looked at him for a moment with a strange look in her eye. There was a line about her mouth that could have been impatience or disappointment. “Your attitude was perfectly silly,” she said.

  “Would you like a cigarette?” Reggie inquired politely.

  Eileen shook her head in irritation.

  “No,” she said shortly. “I don’t know what ever gave you the notion I might be in love with you.”

  Reggie ignored the remark and looked about the room
.

  “Where’s your father?” he asked, “Isn’t the old boy going to dine with us?”

  “Oh, stop it!” Eileen said angrily.

  “Stop what?” Reggie inquired.

  “Stop being so casual and disinterested,” Eileen cried. “What makes you think you can make violent love to a girl one instant and act like an Eskimo the next?” She turned away from him with an angry snap of her skirts. “You came down here and deliberately made love to me and—and you upset me and made me unsure of myself. Now you’re acting like a frozen fish!”

  Reggie’s growing, but concealed delight, at her words was shattered by this last remark. Now he was almost sure she loved him and his indifferent attitude had made her realize that fact. But how could he ask anyone to marry him while he was going through the process of turning into various sorts of animals? It just wouldn’t do. Her remark about fish brought this home to him with stabbing force. He realized that his dreams of marrying Eileen were forever beyond realization.

  He forced himself to yawn boredly.

  “We were speaking about your father, remember?” he asked casually.

  His studied indifference brought an angry flash to her eyes.

  “He’s in the library,” she snapped. “And I won’t keep you away from him any longer you—you jellyfish! He’s in there talking to that little friend of yours.”

  “Friend of mine?” Reggie said blankly. “What are you talking about?”

  “Surely you recall asking this man to come and see you here,” Eileen said impatiently. “He arrived about a half hour ago and has been talking to father ever since. They’re discussing something about growth and development, I don’t know exactly. Is this friend of yours a breeder?”

  REGGIE’S heart was suddenly beginning to hammer with hope.

  “Did you see this little man?” he asked excitedly.

  Eileen looked at him oddly. “Why, of course I did,” she said. “Why?”

  “What did he look like?” Reggie demanded.

  Eileen shrugged her shoulders.

  “Not much like anything in particular,” she said. “He’s small, very ordinary looking, but I did notice one very odd thing. He has very interesting eyes. They seem almost solid blue. But other than that he’s completely average.”